May 18, 2014
When this story was originally penned, denial allowed me to write objectively in a narrator's frame of mind, suggesting that the act of writing had not stirred up so much as one moment of repressed stressed-beyond-belief distress. On the other hand, during recent weeks, this chapter of my life is proving far from easy to review. Yet, intuition prods me to forge ahead.
If you ask why I feel compelled to dive into the depths of my mind, day after day, I'd reply: While presently engaged in editing the original version of this story concerning my sister's death, emotion, repressed since the age of three, continues to emerge, suggesting my having mustered the courage to go toe to toe with fear, denied by my conscious sense of awareness until recent weeks.When this story was originally penned, denial allowed me to write objectively in a narrator's frame of mind, suggesting that the act of writing had not stirred up so much as one moment of repressed stressed-beyond-belief distress. On the other hand, during recent weeks, this chapter of my life is proving far from easy to review. Yet, intuition prods me to forge ahead.
When I'd written the original version of this story, concerning Janet's death, denial focused my mind solely upon my parents' loss of their child, suggesting that the overwhelming nature of my angst remained too deeply repressed within my subconscious to expose—to myself. In short, I could not reveal emotional reactions that my defense system had anesthetized at the tender age of three.
During recent weeks, I've been working to accomplish much more than editing this story. I've been proactively feeling and releasing angst, repressed in a tensely coiled state over most of my life. Once that insight hit, I came to understand my recent jack-in-the-box reactions in that my conscious mind has been actively reprocessing the terror of my experience, which, as you shall see, had reason to intensify in the aftermath of my sister's death.
Though I'd been able to write about the years of my parents' childhood, matter-of-factly—at times even cheerfully—thus bouying my spirit after my mother's passing, recent weeks have seen my conscious mind absorbing the terrifying nature of an experience, which, in addition to devastating my mother, father, and grandma, had devastated me. Though I still feel sad and vulnerable, today, I no longer feel terrified or overwhelmed as had been true over these past few weeks.
If you ask what has changed, I'd reply: I've come to see that intuition has been spurring my sense of readiness to work through emotion, which Mother Nature had deemed far too overwhelming for a three year old to fathom. So, just as Mother Nature had signaled my defense system to stuff my reactions into a subconscious suitcase when I was too young to comprehend death as part of life, she has recently 'decided' that I've developed the inner strengths necessary to reprocess that terrifying experience, once and for all—and so my friends, here is the task that you've been watching me work to accomplish over the past several weeks: I've been reliving, reconsidering and actively purging my mind of undeserved guilt. Guilt that weighed heavy on my mind from the age of three until we returned from the cemetary on Mother's Day.
Over this past week, I've continued to muster the courage to iron out a subconscious wrinkle by re-evaluating a mindset, which proved self depreciating. In other words, you've been witnessing a woman unpacking a suitcase filled with baggage.
Upon reflecting back, I believe my baggage has filled three suitcases—the first of which I'd stuffed with undeserved guilt and terror at the age of three. The second, I'd stuffed with shame, at eleven. And the third, I'd stuffed with confusion and pain, sometime before turning twelve. As simplicity proves vital to clarity, we'll unpack each of these self depreciating traits, which have burdened my spirit, one story at a time.
During recent weeks, I've been working to accomplish much more than editing this story. I've been proactively feeling and releasing angst, repressed in a tensely coiled state over most of my life. Once that insight hit, I came to understand my recent jack-in-the-box reactions in that my conscious mind has been actively reprocessing the terror of my experience, which, as you shall see, had reason to intensify in the aftermath of my sister's death.
Though I'd been able to write about the years of my parents' childhood, matter-of-factly—at times even cheerfully—thus bouying my spirit after my mother's passing, recent weeks have seen my conscious mind absorbing the terrifying nature of an experience, which, in addition to devastating my mother, father, and grandma, had devastated me. Though I still feel sad and vulnerable, today, I no longer feel terrified or overwhelmed as had been true over these past few weeks.
If you ask what has changed, I'd reply: I've come to see that intuition has been spurring my sense of readiness to work through emotion, which Mother Nature had deemed far too overwhelming for a three year old to fathom. So, just as Mother Nature had signaled my defense system to stuff my reactions into a subconscious suitcase when I was too young to comprehend death as part of life, she has recently 'decided' that I've developed the inner strengths necessary to reprocess that terrifying experience, once and for all—and so my friends, here is the task that you've been watching me work to accomplish over the past several weeks: I've been reliving, reconsidering and actively purging my mind of undeserved guilt. Guilt that weighed heavy on my mind from the age of three until we returned from the cemetary on Mother's Day.
Over this past week, I've continued to muster the courage to iron out a subconscious wrinkle by re-evaluating a mindset, which proved self depreciating. In other words, you've been witnessing a woman unpacking a suitcase filled with baggage.
Upon reflecting back, I believe my baggage has filled three suitcases—the first of which I'd stuffed with undeserved guilt and terror at the age of three. The second, I'd stuffed with shame, at eleven. And the third, I'd stuffed with confusion and pain, sometime before turning twelve. As simplicity proves vital to clarity, we'll unpack each of these self depreciating traits, which have burdened my spirit, one story at a time.
As the intelligent adult I've grown to be reprocesses each negatively focused self-conceived misperception that my child's mind had stuffed tightly into these suitcases, we'll come to see why I'd felt responsible and thus held myself accountable for the well being of my entire family as well as my friends throughout my life—until the weight of this baggage exhausted my mind. And though I'm not looking forward to re-living the tragic circumstances, which this story and the next two are about to expose, I am looking forward to sweeping out the closet of my mind in order to absorb a wholesome, clear-headed, well-balanced attitude, suggesting that with the emergence of deeper truth, my mind and spirit embrace an ever deepening sense of peaceful repose.
In case you need an example of a mind sweeping, spirit lifting sense of re-organization, try this one on for size: In no way, shape or form will repressed fear deem me guilty of having caused my sister's death or my mother's unhappiness, early on or in the aftermath of my father's death. By way of EMDR, I've worked to sweep that debilitating mindset out of my mind, forever.
Each time my brain works to restructure a misconceived mindset during a session of EMDR, another slice of this undeserved guilt trip is exposed and exorcized from my subconscious. Every time I feel an intuitive urge to work at self discovery until depth perception spotlights another slice of deeper truth, insight hits, and my spirit lifts, as naturally as the ABC's roll off our tongues.
Though my smile has shone forth with greater frequently, this week, it's likely that my spirit will not soar for a while. Why not? Because the results of Will's most recent psa test was not as we'd hoped. As his psa, which has been tested three times over these past three months, has gone up steadily, he is scheduled to see a radiation oncologist, tomorrow—and with that reality weighing on my spirit, my smile has reason to feel subdued until Will walks into the room—and each time I see him, my sense of courage is inspired to match the brilliance of his: I have too much to live for, Annie—we'll beat this thing!
"Life is either a great adventure or else it is nothing …" Helen Keller
In case you need an example of a mind sweeping, spirit lifting sense of re-organization, try this one on for size: In no way, shape or form will repressed fear deem me guilty of having caused my sister's death or my mother's unhappiness, early on or in the aftermath of my father's death. By way of EMDR, I've worked to sweep that debilitating mindset out of my mind, forever.
Each time my brain works to restructure a misconceived mindset during a session of EMDR, another slice of this undeserved guilt trip is exposed and exorcized from my subconscious. Every time I feel an intuitive urge to work at self discovery until depth perception spotlights another slice of deeper truth, insight hits, and my spirit lifts, as naturally as the ABC's roll off our tongues.
Though my smile has shone forth with greater frequently, this week, it's likely that my spirit will not soar for a while. Why not? Because the results of Will's most recent psa test was not as we'd hoped. As his psa, which has been tested three times over these past three months, has gone up steadily, he is scheduled to see a radiation oncologist, tomorrow—and with that reality weighing on my spirit, my smile has reason to feel subdued until Will walks into the room—and each time I see him, my sense of courage is inspired to match the brilliance of his: I have too much to live for, Annie—we'll beat this thing!
"Life is either a great adventure or else it is nothing …" Helen Keller
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